


Talk to Me

by MarzgaPerez



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Past Lives, Revelations, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: Throwback to Season 1, Episode 8. Love how the episode begins with an intimate moment between Nick and June in his apartment. Towards the end of the episode, it’s frustrating as hell when Nick won’t open up.This fic is a dialogue that could have happened between them at some point during the episode...if Nick hadn’t been such a dolt.





	Talk to Me

This is my favorite time of day - after Nick and I’ve made love and the dawn is still hours away. I lay in his arms, my head resting against his shoulder. Before we drift off to sleep, I try to engage him in conversation. Haven’t had much luck in the past, but I persist.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You.” His lips find mine, and he kisses me tenderly. _God, how I’ve come to crave him._

“Anything else?”

He sighs and then confesses. “Yeah. Before...the time before Gilead...”

It’s practically a forbidden topic, but we’ve broken more rules than I can count, all punishable by death. What’s one more?

“And who was Nick Blaine... _before_?” I trace my fingers along his smooth torso. “I’m gonna say...personal trainer?”

“No.”

“Drug kingpin? Librarian? Priest?”

His chest rises as he laughs. “No, but those are interesting guesses.”

Before my next guess, Nick turns the focus to me. “How about June? I’m guessing she was a lawyer.”

“Ha! Not even close. I sold cars.” I wink at him and chuckle to myself. Truth be told, I couldn’t even sell Girl Scout cookies to my grandparents.

“Right. I can see it. I’d buy a car from you.”

“Sure you would. But seriously, tell me what kind of work you did back then.”

Nick doesn’t say anything right away. Seems like he doesn’t want to play anymore. I continue running my fingers up and down his chest, patiently waiting until he responds.

“I...uh...did odd jobs mostly...to keep the lights on. I wasn’t able to finish college. My dad needed me at home.”

“Oh.”

For some reason, this information is sobering - a reminder that we all came into this place as ordinary people with different baggage. “Sounds like you did what you had to do.”

“I guess. That’s how I met Commander Pryce.”

“Pryce is at the very top, right? I’ve heard Waterford mention him before.”

“Yep...he’s one of the founders. I remember when Pryce told me about the Sons of Jacob. We were sitting in some shitty diner, and he’d offered to buy me a cup of coffee. I knew it sounded like a fucking cult.”

“Just a little.” I pinch my fingers close together and hold them in front of Nick’s face. He turns his head away, and I decide to keep my sarcasm to a minimum because he’s starting to open up more. Only I can’t let him off the hook.

”Nick...there isn’t an easy way to ask this...but...why did you go along?”

It’s a question I’ve struggled with for awhile - how did so many decent people blindly walk into this nightmare? And now that I’ve convinced myself that Nick’s a pretty decent guy, I need to know.

“I’m sure it sounds stupid, but Pryce was the only person who showed me any kindness back then. He gave me a chance.”

“Were things that bad?“ I pause and take a deep breath, trying not to sound accusatory. “You had no where else to turn?”

I can sense him growing uncomfortable from the way his body is shifting, being challenged like this. It’s probably why he avoids saying much of anything.

“I started working for Pryce before all the messed-up bullshit. My family needed the money. The world was upside down.”

Now he sounds defensive, and I respond by sitting up abruptly and waving my hand towards that God-awful red dress hanging on the back of a chair. “So what do you call  _this_?” I want to be sympathetic, I really do, but he’s making it difficult.

Nick’s sitting up now too, his fists clenched in front of his knees. “They’re fanatics, I know, but they have all the power.”

I cross my arms and refuse to make eye contact with him. “ _They_ includes you.”

I’m half expecting him to order me out of his room, but he doesn’t. His hands find their way to the small of my back, and he’s rubbing my shoulders in a soothing motion. I let him, of course.  _So fucking weak._

“June...I want to help you.”

“Gee...thanks.” I pull away from his touch, lifting the blanket around me and rising up from the bed. _What am I doing? Why am I taking these risks with this man?_

“It’s not only that.” He moves over to the side of the bed that I’ve left vacant and stretches his hand towards mine. “I want to be with you.”

I shake my head but relent, locking my fingers with his. I soften my tone. “Why me? Because I flirted with you about the tuna?”

“The tuna?” It takes him a second to remember, and then his lips curve into a slight grin.

He pulls me back into his arms, and we return to the same spot as before. It’s difficult to stay angry at Nick, but I continue to be relentless with my questioning.

”Did you want to be with her too? The other Offred?”

I often think about what her life must have been like, how she did (or didn’t) occupy the space before me.

“No, I mean...she was in love with the Commander. He didn’t care about her. Not really. Rita and I started to watch out for her. Best we could. Mrs. Waterford would find subtle ways to punish her.”

“Been there. What was her name?”

“I don’t know. She never told me. And I never asked.”

“I see.” _She died as Offred. At least somebody mourned her death..._

“So...um, June...what else do you want to know?”

Nick’s let his guard down and didn’t come away too scathed. Maybe one more question before I give him a break. It’s an important one. I look him in the eyes.

“What about your family. Did they survive?”

Nick’s breathing slows, and his eyes glaze over with tears. I have my answer.

“My mom died when I was in high school. Then my father passed away not long after the war. Heart attack.”

Nick brushes the back of his hand over his eyelids before reaching over to grab a photograph from his table. He hands it to me.

“That was my brother. Joshua. I tried to get him help. He went to rehab a few times. It didn’t take. He killed a family in a drunk driving accident. They executed him.”

“Jesus, Nick. I’m so sorry.” I study the photograph and the silhouettes of two young men, looking out over the water. It’s the only picture in Nick’s room, really the only personal item, a relic from before, so I know how much his brother means to him.

“I’ve been alone for a long time, June. I’ve played this part very well. Then you had to come along and change everything.”

I’m sure he means that in the nicest way possible. And I know that he’s exhausted from this constant pretending. I am too.

“Well...I can tell you one thing, Nick Blaine. You’re not alone anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There's a banner for this fic posted on Tumblr @marzgaperez.


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